Chapter 6 - Shadows on the WallAs the night wore on, the party reached its climax. The orchestra transitioned to slow, romantic music, and the guests gathered around the main stage for the formal engagement announcement and toast.
Nathaniel stood on the elevated wooden stage, a microphone in his hand, with Vivien beaming proudly at his side. The photographers pressed forward, their lenses zoomed in on the happy couple.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Nathaniel began, his deep, resonant voice filling the silent hall. "Thank you all for coming tonight. This estate has been quiet for many years since my parents passed. Tonight, as I stand here with Vivien, I look forward to building a new chapter of life, built on trust, respect, and shared values."
Vivien beamed, her heart soaring with triumph. She was seconds away from securing her place as the mistress of a multi-billion-dollar empire.
"Before we toast," Nathaniel continued, "I would like to take a moment to acknowledge someone very special. Tonight is not just about our future. It was also supposed to be a celebration for a very bright little girl who brought laughter back into this home when I needed it most—little Lily."
The crowd murmured appreciatively, remembering Vivien's glowing interview from earlier.
Nathaniel turned toward the wing doors. "Grace, Lily, please come out."
Vivien’s heart instantly froze. Her breath caught in her throat. What is he doing?! she thought frantically. I told him they were asleep!
She quickly reached out, grabbing Nathaniel’s arm with a tight, desperate grip. "Darling, please," she whispered through gritted teeth, maintaining her fake smile. "They are uncomfortable around big crowds. Don't force the poor maid to come out here. It’s embarrassing for her."
"It’s not embarrassing, Vivien," Nathaniel replied smoothly, gently removing her hand from his arm. "They are part of this household."
The heavy double doors at the back of the room swung open.
A quiet hush fell over the three hundred glamorous guests as Grace Whitfield walked slowly down the center aisle. She was wearing her simple, clean housekeeper's dress. In her left arm, she held little Lily, who was dressed in a simple cotton dress, her eyes still somewhat red and puffy. In Grace’s right hand, she carried a heavy, black velvet-covered box.
As Grace stepped closer to the stage, the bright party lights illuminated her face clearly.
Gasps rippled through the front row of high-society guests.
On Grace’s right cheek was a dark, prominent red welt—a clear, unmistakable mark of a handprint.
Nathaniel’s eyes locked onto Grace’s face, and his smile completely vanished. His brow furrowed in sudden, sharp concern. He stepped down off the stage immediately, walking briskly toward her.
"Grace?" Nathaniel asked, his voice instantly turning serious and dangerous. "What happened to your face?"
Vivien sprinted down the stage steps, her face pale, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Nathaniel, darling!" she interrupted loudly, trying to step between him and Grace. "She must have had an accident in the kitchen! Grace, you really shouldn't be out here disturbing the guests! Go back downstairs immediately!"
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Grace didn't back down. She stopped right in front of Nathaniel, looking him dead in the eye.
"It wasn't an accident, Mr. Callaway," Grace said, her voice echoing clearly through the quiet ballroom.
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